Write a poem of your own based on Lisa’s image “Bedsheet” or choose a line from Maureen’s poem as a starting place. Post on your blog and link to us (we love that), or just drop your poems here in the comment box.

How wonderful to have Lisa’s work in your personal collection, Scott. Lovely piece that inspired your poem. (Thank you for sharing it.) She’s a real find! And I thank L.L. again for introducing us virtually.

I agree with your use of the word “magical” . For some of the paintings I selected, I’d add the words “edgy” and “dark”; that combination drew me in. Her work creeps up on the viewer, and suddenly I hear the word “Surprise!”

In the story I tell that begins with you,
there is a dark hallway with chairs,
and the solid beams of flashlights,
like brilliant roads leading
to your laughing face.

To the casual reader,
dark hallways are scary,
but then this is the flashlight’s
adult end, with sharp edges like,

why would I write such a thing?

Where you are, the light is soft
and wide, in a forest of chair legs,
a sky of bed sheets, as far away
as I can see from the here and now.

What is now would have been mysterious,
like a journey to a foreign land,
you in the light of children,
so far from make believe, doing work
you would not have imagined.

Sometimes there is a small door
in the distance of a memory,
a slice through the riddle of time.
There waits a sound, a thought,
a secret to be kept beyond reason.

You know this story:

Mount Airy, where the Willys stopped,
half way to Florida; we swam
until our teeth chattered, in the frail air,
the lavender shoulders in the distance,
enduring the ages of the vaulted stars;
you must remember, the water was so warm.
Even after we were gone, the water,
unnoticed from the here and now,
continues gathering the day’s warmth
and each night holds it until morning,
for the someday we might return.

No, you are never ever alone
Even at the break of dawn
Even when no lights are on
Especially when you are wild at play
With, let’s say, your imaginary vessel
One dreamed and schemed to build
The one in which you’ll

Sail away, escape

Within a land of solitary play
Alone is always simply okay
No one will tell you what to say
Or how to script your wild and child-like ways

No, you are never alone
Even though you are a solitary soul
Taking up all the space in a rather crowded room
Filled with imaginings found amid the dark and gloom
Even if you have but one stark tool with which to build
A story

Once upon a time the bed sheet became a sail
And away he went to the land
Of childhood delight
Where a friend was found for him
Who previously had not one

Pulled from the folds of his very soul
Captured on the wings of wild and wooly
Play
And a technicolored